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These towers serve to mark the lower mass graves

Each pillar of stone, a nail through the necks of slaves

Beneath the shadows of the Crown; in the streets they lay

Sewer-bound, unified by virtues and decay.

The rats reap the bitter fruits of the wasteful lords

How great the mercy of the famished hordes

Larvae of parasites teem beneath the throne

Monarchs may one day choke upon their bones

A vermin congregation – a beggar’s battalion

Pariah population – the corpse of a stallion

Sermons sung to decimate the cancer of greed

Shepherds come to infest the estates…to let the starving souls feed.

Thus would the vilest of men don the gilded flesh of devils and appoint themselves among the righteous. And with pernicious prudence, craft the inversion – the illusion of virtue that would be the plinth under which the vermin are crushed, living in filth as crippled worms coiled about the oppressive monolith. Starve as they will, the keepers offer mere scraps to the imprisoned rabble. But look past the stone despot’s glory, for you my yet see the jaws of the Jagged Crown. Move swiftly and united with the blessed swarm, lest you hang helplessly as a solitary morsel in the fingers of a gluttonous lower god.